


Understanding

by The_Otter_Knight



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Fluff, M/M, My First Work in This Fandom, New Year's Kiss, OTP Feels, Pre-Slash, Slash, Summary isn't accurate, whoops
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-01
Updated: 2016-01-01
Packaged: 2018-05-10 20:54:17
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,861
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5600461
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/The_Otter_Knight/pseuds/The_Otter_Knight
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Sam," Castiel breaths out - foreign, an thing that he does not understand but his body relishes in, an ounce of normalcy that Sam and Dean seem to appreciate - and the human looks up. His soul is bright, ever so bright in his eyes, but no human words can express the serenity that it is. "Sam, I would like to participate in a human tradition with you."<br/>Sam is gorgeous and his confused smile is almost worth the feeling of weightlessness that it brings.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Understanding

Castiel does not understand the concept of human traditions, does not understand why gifts need to be exchanged or why some people would choose to remain with fleeting friends when their flesh and blood are nearby. He does not understand why these mortal beings would keep these things up when physical touch is something that he knows to be beneficial, but spoken words are just as valuable.

He does not hear Sam call for him, that night. He had been observing other humans, more of his Father's creations, laughing and walking the streets and letting snow touch their faces. Brightly coloured lights highlight their features, and they seem quite happy being with whichever company they have. He knows that Dean is elsewhere, is perhaps making a home in a bar or fighting another case, preserving another family's happiness because he knows how much it hurts to have it shattered before you. Castiel knows where he is, feels it in his bones, but his mind - fickle and never focusing, it seems, not in this vessel - often goes back to Sam, who he can feel is sitting alone in the Bunker, perhaps waiting for Charlie or Bobby to call. Perhaps he is reading in front of a fire, or looking up research online.

Castiel thinks often of Sam, who sits alone even now, and can't help but wonder why he's here and not there. He does not know why this bothers him, why it settles heavily in his bones and makes him weary, makes parts of him ache with such deep-felt sorrow and longing that overcomes him. He knows that Dean can handle himself, but he does not concern himself with Dean. Sam is precious, once fought against the demon blood but now rides alone, always fighting things that Castiel or Dean cannot help. Sam is much stronger than he takes himself to be, and yet Castiel has a worry. He thinks of Sam before he goes into battle, and even though he would feel it if Sam got hurt, he can't help but look, to reach out with his Grace to touch and assure himself that Sam is very much alive.

Time means nothing to him, but humans live so very shortly, and they are aware of it. He has seen age wear down skin to dust, has seen ancient cities been reduced to nothing but rubble. He's rarely conversed with humans, but have watched their ways, made notice of their traditions and worries and their heartaches. He is fascinated by humans and their large range of emotions, of which he can only begin to touch through his vessel. In all of his eternity as an angel, he has never felt inclined to fasten himself down and forbid his wings from ever unfurling again, to shed his Grace and become human. But Sam has a way of making Castiel aware of things that he otherwise wouldn't before. Sam is gentle and kind and makes Castiel wish for the first time that perhaps he had been constructed as one of God's creations because maybe he is missing out on something grand.

Sam makes Castiel wish for a lot of things, things that Castiel cannot take or allow for himself to have. Castiel has had many brothers and sisters, and have fought with them, but none of them had ever really made him feel at home like the Winchesters have. The Winchesters were the reason why he's disobeyed so many times, were the reasons why he was cast away from Heaven, and yet he never once felt the beginnings of regret. He never regrets anything that involves the brothers.

For the first time in eternity, Castiel has felt the cold. For the first time, he has felt human.

Now, watching the couples move along the streets of London, and listening to the human construction of the bell toll - a beautiful, marvellous creation that he has spent mindless hours mapping with the crevice of his fingers - he watches a few embrace and kiss. He knows of many traditions, and only has an inkling of what this is. Time has no meaning for him, but for each new year spent with family and friends is to be cherished, he knows. Especially with humans.

It is without regret that he unfurls his shadows of wings, feeling his vessel protest against the cold, a half-numbness sweeping through before he is gone. He finds himself in the bunker, and he is all too conscious of the passage of time, of the time zones he has skipped, of the stale scent of old books, ink, and leather pressing against his senses. He knows this smell, he knows the curve of Sam's jawline as he looks into a book, knows the way that the lighting overhead makes his hair glow. Castiel has noticed many things, and he commits them each to memory. His vessel will not age as quickly as others, he knows, at least not while Castiel resides in it and keeps his Grace intact. His memory is grand, but in all of it, he has never observed something as grand as Sam's soul.

If he lets his focus slide, let his angel Grace reach out and touch, he can feel the curls and echoes of Sam's soul. It is bright and burning, a perfect representation of graciousness and heartache. It has scars and pulses with an ache, and may crack along the edges, but it is whole and complete and still so bright. It is almost too much to look at. Castiel had resented Sam at first; had hated that the demon blood was beginning to taint his soul, twist and churn it into something dark and malevolent. However, Sam has strayed from that path, had let his soul heal and grow, blossoming back into something beautiful. Castiel has never seen something so beautiful, and feels like he can never stand so close in fear of letting his own Grace tarnish it. It is foolish to think so, but Sam is someone important to him that he would not risk bringing harm.

Sam's soul is more gorgeous than his frame; tall and well built, with gentle hands even though they've long since been calloused. If not for Sam's soul, Castiel would have long since been lost in the depth that was his eyes - echoes of emotions, of pain and love with vibrancy in hues of brown and green. He knows that Sam is exceptional by human standards, knows that he is strong and capable and dependable. Castiel has once been called lost by a superior, that he had been lost since he brought Dean out. Perhaps he had been, because that was when he had met Sam.

"Cas? What are you doing here?"

He feels almost inclined to smile, to let Sam know that his well-meant sentence is well received. Sam makes him want to participate in human actions and feel human emotions, but he holds back. "I understand that humans appreciate company at the beginning of another year," he says, watching Sam's features turn into a look of understanding. He places his bookmark in and closes the book, focusing his attention on the Angel in front of him.

"Are you cold? I mean, of course not, angels don't feel the cold, but you have snow everywhere," concern touches his voice, and Castiel feels a rush of human emotions run through him. Sam seems to hesitate, wanting to reach out but stopping himself. Castiel knows that he doesn't make the younger Winchester feel appreciated too much, knows that there will always be a bit of a gap between their bond because of the misplaced words at their first introduction. It does not help stem the flow of half-felt emotions coursing through him though, the feelings that he blocks out. A soldier must not let his judgement become clouded, not even when it concerns someone like Sam.

"No, Sam, I am well," he responds, tilting his head and looking down at himself. His trench coat is dampening and his vessel is beginning to protest at the feeling of the cold and wet. He closes his mind to it and instead focuses on observing Sam. "Sam, are you aware that you have customs for this time of year?" The taller man makes a nod of confirmation, so Castiel continues. "I would like to participate in a human custom with you."

Sam smiles up at Castiel from his seat, confusion touching the corners of his lips. "Uh, yeah, sure, Cas," he says, watching the angel take long strides across the table and to the hunter's side. Sam's eyes only hold open curiosity, eyebrows curling into a slightly concerned gesture. "Cas?" Castiel frowns, but the genuine curiosity bleeds through him. It is a fierce emotion, something that he could not snuff out. It is something numbed over from his own being that Jimmy is enhancing. Castiel's curiosity is of a taking nature, the need to understand this feeling, and Sam is only willing to give and give.

Castiel gives a brief moment for Sam to back up - a moment of eternity for an angel who could potentially lapse through time on order but a faltering moment for reconsideration - before his flashes of humanity allows for his judgement to lapse, for him to take a breath and he brushes forward. Castiel has orders; not to grow too attached for the Winchesters, but marking Dean under his protection had a lingering affect, and allowing himself a glimpse of Sam's marvellous soul was enough for him to fall. Castiel could feel his Grace thrum when in contact with Sam, his own vessel flushing and curling towards the touch. Sam's lips were soft, slightly chapped but it is the feeling itself that he allows for himself to feel. Sam had breathed in sharply, prompting for Castiel to breath out. It is a familiar action for his vessel, but one that he does not require. It provides stability and comfort and the promise of normalcy for the brothers though, so he allows for it to happen.

Sam does not push away, because that is not his way. Castiel cannot read his emotions, only a whirlwind of thought and fleeting pulses of feeling that he dares not decipher. Castiel allows himself this one moment to break his order, to allow himself to breathe in Sam and to extend his Grace just enough to encase a feeling of warmth and security. Sam is warm against him, and he'd like to think that he could feel it. Sam makes Castiel feel human, and it doesn't seem like a weakness that his superiors said it would be.

"It's midnight, Sam. I wish you a good new years."

Sam blinks up at him, a dazed and contemplating expression on his face. "Huh." He licks his lips, eyes focusing back on Castiel. Castiel leans back and hums appreciatively, closing his eyes. This would be the only thing he would allow for himself to take. Sam deserves so much more than Castiel. "Thank you, Cas."

Despite not knowing the complexity of human customs and their traditions, he would like to believe he understood this one.


End file.
